


Feeling Lucky

by gryffindorJ



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorJ/pseuds/gryffindorJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Luck is not chance, it's toil; fortune's expensive smile is earned."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling Lucky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noeon (noe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noe/gifts).



> **Content/Enticements:** Kissing, blow jobs, hand jobs, spanking, rimming, dirty talk, frotting, anal, and maybe a hint of some other things but that's the official list.  
>  **Author's Notes:** Thank you to my fantastic beta. You're the best. Thank you mods for having this fest.  
>  Noeon, I was very excited when I read your sign up. Hopefully, this story gives you many of the things you asked for. Most importantly, you said romantic comedy and this is what happens: Draco takes Felix Felicis because he wants something from Harry really badly and needs help getting it. But nothing goes as planned. But Harry is Head Auror and he looks really sexy in his Auror robes, so that will save everything.  
> HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!

_”Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days.”_

Although it had been over eleven years, Draco could remember his first time like it was yesterday. Astoria started out by simply writhing and moaning in pain as she clutched her straining belly, but quickly she became flushed, sweating and she started screaming. Yes, screaming. Astoria whose voice was always light, gentle, and womanly. Draco still remembered the curses and epithets; the majority of those revolving around Draco and his “fucking awful, damned to hell, bloody worse than the fucking Cruciatus curse” cock.

He still winced and felt slightly sick at the memory of when Astoria's water broke all over the handwoven Turkish carpet they had received only a few months before as a housewarming present. It was in that moment that he had decided he had to take every safety precaution he could surrounding the quickly impending birth. 

Like all of Draco's best decisions, he made that one with a clear, cool head. He had Disapparated on the spot to his private workroom and returned to the house only minutes later to Astoria who was cursing him for “fucking leaving” while her entire body was being “ripped and shredded like a cheap dress by the fucking spawn he had inflicted on her.” Draco wasn't bothered by her hysterical state though. In his hand, he had the assurance that unfiltered luck would guide him through the day.

He hadn't even taken the potion yet, and he already felt better. He uncorked the bottle, raised it in silent toast to Astoria and her heaving belly, and Draco – who had always had the ability to throw back any drink or massive amount of liquid without batting an eye – downed the gold liquid in one swallow. 

He could remember the way his steps and decisions came to him with ease. The way he had delicately insisted with the perfect amount of sensitivity that Astoria not try to labor at home, as she had planned, but instead allow him to take her to St Mungo's. They arrived at St Mungo's via the Knight Bus of all things, but the potion had insisted and been correct. Couldn't use the Floo or Apparate while pregnant. The bus had been empty, and Astoria had been able to lie down as the driver, who was brand new, having only left his job as the Minister's driver, delivered them smoothly and quickly to London. (Draco had been allowed to enjoy a nice glass of brandy on the trip.)

They walked through the doors and were escorted to a private and lavishly comfortable room. Draco felt his luck firmly in place as the president of the hospital mentioned that just yesterday they had received a large donation from none other than Draco's mother. 

The birth had been easy, as far as Draco was concerned, and that was what really mattered. And as he held Scorpius, his son, only an hour later in all his red-faced, squalling glory feeling happier than he had ever been, Draco knew he had made the right decision. 

Despite knowing he married Astoria for honour's sake – she had been four months along when they had wed on a quick weekend trip to Corsica – having Scorpius arrive safely without a single complication was the best thing Draco had ever done. He would never leave such a weighty life moment up to chance. 

Draco thought about the potion and chance as he now stood in the doorway of his bedroom, staring at his bed. It was perfect. He had made sure it was perfect. He had spent over a year searching before he found and bought the perfect mattress. It cupped your body like a lover's touch. Gentle but firm so that you could surrender completely to its enticements. He had spent four hours with Pansy picking out the sets of soft Egyptian cotton sheets so rich and luxurious and thickly woven that they felt delicate on your skin and kept you cool like silk. The comforter his mother had found. It was a soft, fluffy cloud duvet with full, rich loft and tufted boxes that prevented the down from clumping. It kept you the perfect temperature no matter if it was a cold winter's night spent alone or a heated one with a companion. 

Draco's skin prickled with the memories of those nights spent with someone else in that bed. Not just someone else, but with Harry. Draco had an entire stockade of memories regarding Harry and that bed, but as he could still see Harry's discarded pants peeking out from under the bed, his mind immediately thought about last night. 

He remembered Harry stretched out upon the bed completely naked, his hair a stark contrast to the crisp, white bedding beneath him. He could see the slopes, curves and angles of Harry's body – the firmness of his chest and shoulders, broad and strong – and down to his long narrow waist. The speckle of dark hairs across his chest and the ones that grew more thickly around and down from his navel, that were soft as velvet when Draco brushed his cheek, lips or tongue to them. The hairs naturally drew Draco's eyes down, but then Harry's cock – long, thick, and hard as a rock – pointed back up and made Draco's gaze stop dead. It silently commanded him to come and take it in his mouth. Draco, of course, had. 

Draco looked at the smooth sheets and could visualize the wrinkles left in them by Harry fisting his hands in the fabric as Draco brought his mouth down on him. He could hear Harry's groans, taste the salt and musk of his skin and come hot against his tongue. 

Draco's chest tightened at the memory of how Harry held him afterwards, bringing him off with his hand as he kissed him deeply and whispered some of his more creative ideas to Draco. Harry, everyone's favourite boy hero, was secretly – well, not so secretly to Draco anymore – absolutely depraved and filthy minded. It had been one of the many things about Harry that surprised Draco and was probably his favourite. In the fifteen months they had been together, Harry proved to Draco again and again how deeply filled with passion he was. Sometimes it was something as small as a whisper asking Draco if he would ride his face, and other times it was bending Draco over the table spanking his arse till his hand was numb and then thoroughly fucking him all within minutes of family arriving for dinner. Draco couldn't look at a fully laid table, food and all, for a long time without blushing. The soft clattering of dishes could still make goose flesh rise on his arms. 

Harry wasn't perfect though. Far from it. Draco wasn't thinking about Harry's lesser virtues like stubbornness or impulsiveness but about the fact Harry currently wasn't in Draco's bed. Draco hadn't even sunk into post-orgasmic bliss before Harry was saying he needed to get home because the kids would be Flooing over early in the morning. He had dressed and given Draco a kiss filled with passion and longing, but was gone before Draco could force him back down on the bed. 

Harry would stay over, of course. Draco had even allowed Harry to convince him to stay at Harry's house a time or two. At one point, early in their relationship, they would go for days and days in each other's company. Neither willing to part because they were too busy shagging one another mindless or enjoying the bliss of having the other person there. Those times still happened, but work and children always did their best to get in the way. Draco didn't want to wake up another single morning all alone. He understood Harry was Head Auror and a deeply devoted father, so he knew he couldn't stay the night all the time, but that didn't mean it didn't annoy Draco any less. Draco didn't just want Harry in his bed all the time; he wanted him in his life all the time. 

He wanted to come home and find Harry had moved the ottoman from the chair over by the sofa again so he could stretch out but still sit up and have a beer while he watched the telly. He wanted Harry rolling his eyes at him, again, because they ran out of milk halfway through the week, because Draco puts way too much in his tea. Draco wanted to know he was going to sleep every night with Harry pulling him close and resting his chin on Draco's shoulder up until the point Draco wanted to fall asleep and Harry had to move back to his side of the bed because Draco didn't like being touched while he slept. He wanted all of this despite the fact that the twat left his dirty pants under the bed. Draco would make him pick them up with his teeth when he came over later. 

Guessing or planning for those times when Harry would stay over was no longer enough. Draco was ready for Harry to move in. 

The problem was Draco was scared. Draco had survived many scary experiences in his life, but this kind was different. This was the kind that happened when you had all the happiness in the world, but were bold enough to ask for more. Just because you wanted to, and were willing to ask for more, didn't save you from being afraid to ask. It was the exact same feeling Draco had when Astoria went into labor.

Draco believed in some form of a deity, but pleading and imploring with that power still left chance involved. Draco had enough experience to know that the saying “God works in mysterious ways” was the understatement of his life. Mysterious ways and chance were not something Draco would play with this time. 

The potion had worked to wondrous effects the first time he took it, so it was time to do it again. Unlike last time, Draco had planned for it this time for over a month, so the potion was already in the house.

Draco walked over to his chest of drawers with perfect intent and pulled open the third drawer. Everyone hid precious belongings amongst their pants or socks, but Draco hid this with his perfectly fitted t-shirts. Yes, Draco owned t-shirts. All V-necked as a scoop neck made him look pudgy. He took out the small, corked bottle of liquid gold perfection and slipped it into his pocket.

Draco left the room with hardly a glance at his bed. He was confident that this time tomorrow Harry would still be in it with no plans of ever sleeping anywhere else firmly in place. 

As he went down the stairs he already felt light and carefree, as if he'd already taken the potion. Once he had, it would only make everything better. 

Draco made himself a small breakfast – buttered toast and a pot of tea – then sat down at the table near the window. He slipped the bottle out of his pocket and put it down next to his teacup. He had waited till the perfect day. 

Astoria was in England for a week, and Scorpius was with her, happily ensconced in some outrageously expensive hotel. Scorpius was supposed to be attending school every day, but Astoria spoiled Scorpius, so Draco had his doubts. When Scorpius returned home in four days he would need to detox from all the sugar he had eaten and his hair would be damaged from too much time spent in the swimming pool. Draco put that firmly out of his mind though. He had fought with Astoria plenty about Scorpius over the years, but then he saw how expertly Harry handled Ginny. 

Every time the children were at Harry's house, Harry spent thirty minutes talking to Ginny via Floo about what the kids needed. Harry would patiently nod, listen, maybe ask a question, but the moment her head popped away and Harry stood up, all the unimportant stuff might as well be forgotten. Harry was a very good father; sometimes Draco thought he was even better than he, not that he would ever tell Harry that. It didn't matter if his kids didn't get vegetables every night, watched too much telly, or weren't in bed exactly at half past eight. Seeing Harry's effortless manoeuvring showed Draco it was OK to keep quiet sometimes. His jaw may have been sore from grinding his teeth too much, but Scorpius was happy. In the end, that's all Draco cared about. 

The Quidditch season had ended and now Harry's two youngest would be with their mother more often. Draco couldn't believe the absolute difference in chaos when one went from one child to two. Throw three in the mix, and it was that much worse. Thankfully James was at Hogwarts, but Draco had considered over the past month what it would be like to have four children around all the time; five if you counted Harry's godson. There would be moments when Draco was absolutely sure he would hate it, and he would be cursing Harry for never learning a proper contraceptive charm. Or perhaps Harry couldn't keep it in his pants? Draco smiled wickedly; he knew the answer to that question. In regards to himself and Harry at least. Draco didn't like to think about Harry's marriage. Draco was human and susceptible to jealousy, and he refused to allow himself to feel that way about a woman Harry had divorced, let alone a Weasley. 

The children wouldn't be around for a few days, and that was the important part. They were good, but the past week Harry had been consumed with some bloody project for Albus's school. At first Draco had mocked and laughed at Harry for sending his children to a regular Muggle school and thus saddling them with projects, such as this diorama. Albus was supposed to construct some great English sea battle. Harry had insisted on making the ships, but several burns from what he called a hot glue gun had cured Harry of that notion. Still the project was a pain in the arse and left Harry busy and bad-tempered for most of the week. Last night had been the only time Draco had a moment alone with him. It wasn't enough. 

The project would be turned in this morning though, and Harry would be feeling freer. 

Draco shrugged to himself, thinking of work. If he waited till Harry's caseload lightened or his business slowed down, then he would be waiting forever. 

Now was the right time, and he wouldn't wait anymore. Draco poured himself a cup of tea and reached for the milk and sugar. He stirred his tea lightly but didn't lift it to take a drink. 

He was through thinking about it. He picked up the small bottle, uncorked it and drank it all in one gulp. The taste was still heavy on his tongue when he felt the thrill of the potion move through him, as if it were already in his veins. Draco suddenly felt calm and reassured. Everything he would do today would work to his benefit. By tonight he'd have everything he wanted. He hadn't remembered the feeling being this acute when he took the potion the first time. It had been some years though, and Astoria had been screaming at him. No matter. This was perfection. 

With an air of decision, he lifted his teacup and took a sip. He closed his eyes with blissful sigh as the heat of the drink coated his throat. He hadn't realized it when he made the pot, but this was the special tea his mother would send because she knew Harry enjoyed it. The tea was rich, round with tannins, and the milk and sugar highlighted this. With another happy sigh, Draco was about to take a sip again when the Floo roared to life behind him. 

He spun around in his chair, half expecting Harry to come stepping through his Floo, carrying all his possessions and completely naked. It wasn't Harry. 

“Scorpius,” Draco said, completely delighted to see the disembodied head of the greatest joy in his life. It was like the potion was telling him, _See, here's your son. Today you will succeed._

“Dad,” Scorpius said, and his voice cracked. Not in the way it would start cracking within a few years. A time Draco was already dreading. But with emotion that sent Draco hurtling out of his chair and kneeling on the hard stone before the hearth. 

“What is it?” Draco asked, looking at the pain in Scorpius's eyes. The way his face was pinched and anxious. 

Scorpius looked down, and Draco saw him swallow hard. Then he looked up and met Draco's eyes. Draco had always taught his son that no matter what, look people in the eye. “I'm at the Ministry. I've been arrested.”

_____ 

_”It's liquid luck. It makes you lucky.”_

“It's ten inches. Hurry up.”

The security guard looked Draco over and chortled. “I think we're exaggerating a bit.” 

“Please. Do I look like a man who needs to exaggerate?” Draco wanted to snatch his wand away from the man, but he didn't need to end up locked up alongside his son. “Does it always take this long?” 

“You're a special case it seems. All right, all done now.” The Security guard looked at the piece of parchment and said, “You weren't lying. Ten inches, hawthorn and unicorn hair.” Draco grabbed his wand and was about to go, but not before the guard added. “Wand’s a bit short for a bloke, don't you think?” 

“I've never had any complaints.” 

The guard's laugh quickly turned into a wince. Draco felt his own face drop at the sudden shift in facial expression. Then the guard said, “I think you've got something on your robes.” 

Draco looked down where the guard was looking and saw the faint smear of something on his robes. “Bugger,” Draco murmured and walked through the golden gates towards the lifts, rubbing at the spot and trying to reckon when he got the stain. The robes were a grey wool and cashmere blend. Draco tried to remember the last time he'd worn them. It had to have been ages; they were cut high above his ankles. Draco rarely got rid of anything, so it was quite possible they were from when he was eighteen or nineteen. But it was impossible that he had put on dirty robes, let alone put stained ones back in his wardrobe, and more than that, highly impossible Felix had guided him in choosing these robes. 

He had felt the ease of picking out his clothing. There was no choice in the matter; he felt the clarity Felix gave him when he reached for these robes. This was what he was supposed to wear today. So why in the bloody hell would Felix have him put on dirty clothes? He must have got something on them on his way to the Ministry. 

Draco got to the lifts, and they were all empty. Everything was still working out well. It wasn't the potion's fault Scorpius had been arrested. 

His initial reaction had been to get to Scorpius as quickly as possible. The potion had even guided him in getting ready. He had never trusted a shaving charm. Too much risk to have a straight edge with its own mind cutting across your throat. But as he looked at the razor today he knew he could do it. The shave was flawless, and better than that, it was done in half the usual time. He brushed his teeth and then hurried to his walk-in wardrobe. 

As he dressed, his next thought was to get Harry. Harry didn't necessarily know Scorpius had been arrested. It wasn't likely a minor matter would come across the Head Auror's desk. It wasn't even an Auror problem. It was a Patrol Officer from the MLE who had arrested Scorpius. 

The potion had told him, No, do not get Harry. Draco had listened. As much as he wanted Harry there for support and the massive amount of power he had in the Ministry, Felix had guided him away from that. 

As the lift doors clattered shut, Draco was confident that was the right decision. Whatever the reason was that Scorpius was now sitting in lock-up, Draco was certain it was trivial. If he couldn't get Scorpius out within an hour, then Pansy, who he had owled before leaving for the Ministry, would. Perhaps he could get this whole situation done and over with quickly, and then he would be back to his perfect day. Images of making a surprise visit to Harry's office entered Draco's mind. Being pressed to Harry's desk never got old. 

The lift rattled and clanged as it slowly went up. At level five, Department of International Magical Co-operation, the lift came to a shuddering stop, and the grill slid open, admitting a witch whose nose was buried in a stack of parchment. Draco nodded politely at her, but she said nothing. They continued their rattling climb up but stopped on level three to let the witch off. Before the golden grill could close behind her, she said, without looking up from her parchment, “You've something on your robes.” 

As the lift started to rise again Draco pointlessly flipped her off with one hand as he pulled at the front of his robes with the other and scowled at the spot. He had no idea what it was. He took out his wand and was poking at the stain when the lift came to a halt and announced, “Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.” Draco stepped off the lift and looked at the corridor full of doors. He thought fleetingly of Harry as he walked toward the one that said Magical Law Enforcement and not the large double ones that led to Harry's department. 

Draco made his way seamlessly through the witch running the check-in desk and to the lock-up area. Every word he uttered came easy and unforced, effortlessly getting him past what would likely otherwise have been a bureaucratic mine field. Draco stepped into a corridor that was damp, dim, and lined with cells. None of the magical windows that liberally peppered the rest of the Ministry were here. “He's on the end,” the witch who held the door open for him said. Draco nodded and walked down the narrow corridor. 

The door swung closed behind him, leaving him in a greyish light that uncomfortably reminded him of a mausoleum. Draco would have normally felt terribly worried. The twist in his gut would have sent him all but running down to Scorpius's cell; the potion kept his head though. This would be fine, nothing more than a hiccough in his day, the potion assured him. As he passed the other cells he noted with some disapproval that they were all empty. Surely Scorpius couldn't be the only person arrested today. 

Draco almost passed right by the cell that contained his son, but a glint from his silver blond hair caught his eye. He was tucked back in the deep shadows of the corner, knees to chest and head down. Draco had the tendency to think of Scorpius as big, practically a teenager, which meant almost grown up. Especially when he saw him around Lily, Harry's youngest. Even though she was only a year younger than the two middle boys, she seemed little. Draco's heart gave a lurch now as he looked at Scorpius. He looked so young, so small. Draco wanted to rip all the bars away with his bare hands and run to his son. Instead, Draco did the best impression of his own father and merely cleared his throat. 

Scorpius's head snapped up and the word “Dad” had barely passed his lips before he was running to the bars and clutching Draco's hands. 

“For the love of Merlin, please tell me you weren't arrested for pissing on a tree in public,” Draco said, and to his delight, Scorpius laughed. 

“No.” He shook his head and said more seriously, “I'm real sorry, Dad.” 

Draco could see from his puffy eyes and the salty lines on his face that Scorpius had been crying. That made Draco feel sick; he didn't know the last time his son had shed actual tears. 

“Tell me exactly what you're sorry for so that I can fix it. Do not leave anything out.” 

Scorpius took a deep breath, but before he could say a word the door at the end of the corridor swung open. A narrow beam of light shone straight across Scorpius's face, blinding him. 

“Your legal council, Mr McLaggen,” the witch said from the other end of the room. The door closed and Draco could see the husky shape of McLaggen sauntering towards them. He stopped a few feet from them, gave Draco a smarmy smile, and reached out and tousled Scorpius's hair. 

“What's our young man done?” McLaggen asked with a hearty tone. 

Draco could see the look of cold fury on Scorpius's face out of the corner of his eyes. Scorpius didn't like his hair touched. Before Scorpius could tell McLaggen where to stick it, Draco asked, “Where's Pansy? I owled her.” 

“She's in court. Can't get out of it. But you have me, and we all know my surname's on the parchment head, so it's as if you traded up.” 

Draco repressed the urge to laugh. McLaggen may have been his surname, but it was also that of his father and grandfather who owned the firm, and he knew full well Draco would know that. “How long will she be?” Draco asked. 

“I haven't the faintest idea. This is probably nothing. We'll be out of here having a pint together before she even knows anything has happened.” McLaggen reached out and gripped Draco's shoulder in solidarity. Draco didn't hate McLaggen exactly, found him more of an egotistical, self-loving product of nepotism than anything else, but still the touch made his skin crawl. “You've something on your robes, Malfoy.” 

Draco clapped his hand over the stain and turned to dislodge the touch, straightening his robes and noticing for the first time that they felt ill-cut across his shoulders and loose, almost baggy, on his chest. Brushing this aside, he asked Scorpius, “Let’s have it. Why are you here?” 

Scorpius was once again forestalled from even uttering a word as the door swung open. The shaft of light now crossed Draco's face, making it impossible to see. He held up his hand to block the light and saw a strong silhouette taking up the doorway as only one man could. It had to be a trick of the light, but Draco thought he saw the shadow of the robes swaying around the ankles and slightly billowing out behind him as if the perfect light breeze had followed him around if only to make his entrance that much better. 

The witch wasn't there to announce him, but he went wherever the hell he wanted and needed no announcement. He still stood in the door as he said, “McLaggen, you are not permitted anywhere in the building unless you check in with me first.” 

The door closed behind Harry, and he walked towards them. Draco could see Harry looked rather filthy for so early in the day. He was in his field robes, not the regular Auror robes worn on most days, but the ones Harry wore when he was on a mission that required stealth. They were dull, hunting type colours. Blues and greys, easily transfigured to look like the side of a building, a shadow, a wall, or even the sky. Draco could see the dirty water spots that speckled the hem of his cloak, and his black boots were covered in dust. 

Draco noticed the tear at the knee of the trousers that had been mended. They were his cold weather trousers, the ones with reinforced warming charms. Draco knew all of Harry's uniforms and which trousers, shirts, boots, and cloaks were worn when. Draco was a connoisseur of Harry's uniforms. That was another thing that had surprised Draco about Harry. Draco had never considered himself a man who would have a thing for a man in uniform. But it wasn't any man in uniform that got him. It was Harry in uniform. When he saw that cloak, those trouser, those boots on Harry – tall, strong, self-assured Harry – Draco's head felt light. 

“I'm sure the Head Auror has bigger worries than me,” McLaggen said, turning to Harry. Draco could see that he was blocked by the long shadow McLaggen's sturdy form cast and knew Harry hadn't seen him yet. 

That left Draco with a moment to feel caught between feeling saved and completely mortified Harry had shown up. The potion had guided Draco not to get Harry, and now here he was anyway. He tried to remain calm and allow the liquid luck to move him, but it wasn't easy. 

“I've an endless stack of important, but somehow scum always manages to rise to the top of it.” 

Draco felt his jaw drop just a little. He may have found McLaggen annoying, but Harry clearly loathed him. Draco wanted desperately to know why. 

“Tsk, tsk, Potter. Watch what you say in front of my clients. I won't have you calling my character into question,” McLaggen replied. 

Harry opened his mouth, but McLaggen moved out of the way, finally giving Harry a clear sight of Draco standing next to the bars and on the other side Scorpius. For a moment Harry looked shocked, but then at the same time he and Draco both said, “Why the hell are you here?” The corners of Harry's lips twitched in a smile, and Draco was instantly happy Harry was there. All worries vanished. 

“I think it's obvious why I'm here,” Draco said, not smiling with his mouth but making sure Harry could see the relief in his eyes. “Were you in the field? Why are you back?” 

Harry looked down at his uniform and with the merest glance at McLaggen, Draco knew Harry couldn't say, not now. “McLaggen here is a special case,” Harry said with a curt nod towards the other man. “It's better I know when he's around.” McLaggen huffed and rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. “So what's going on exactly?” Harry looked at Scorpius. “Do something stupid in the wrong place and MLE snagged you?” 

Scorpius smiled and mumbled, “Yeah.” 

“All right then, out with it,” Draco said, stepping back and crossing his arms. 

“Shouldn't you wait till your lawyer is here?” Harry said, raising his brows. 

“McLaggen is my lawyer,” Draco replied. Harry winced, and Draco hurried to explain. “Pansy couldn't make it.” 

Harry's eyes moved to McLaggen then to Scorpius. Draco saw that even in the horrible light they were still bright and warm. Leave it to Potter to look good even in a tomb. Harry looked to Draco and shrugged. “Can't be helped, I reckon. Lucky for you that you won't likely need McLaggen for whatever this is. Though he'll bill you for the hours anyway.” 

McLaggen took a breath to dispute this, but Draco stopped him. “Enough of this. Scorpius. What in the bloody hell did you do?” 

Scorpius tried to look at Draco but looked slightly scared, so he looked to Harry. Still looking scared he looked to McLaggen, but he winced slightly. He settled his gaze firmly on his shoes and spoke. 

He and his friends had been walking to school and used a shortcut through a Muggle neighbourhood’s private garden they liked to use. On occasion they had used the privacy of the garden to throw a Quaffle around or, like today, set off fireworks. All of the items were magical and had charms attached to them that went off when used in a highly populated Muggle area. Today they had set off a load of fireworks Astoria had purchased at Weasley Wizard's Wheezes for Scorpius. Before the last boom had even sounded MLE officers in their bright blue robes were dropping down from trees and jumping out of bushes. Scorpius and his friends had run, but Scorpius had, damn his luck, been the only one caught. “I don't know what was different about today. We've done that all year long, even last year.” 

“They probably got tired of the charms going off. Decided to put a stop to it is all,” Harry said casually. “Won't be hard to clear up.” 

The door opened again and this time a wizard in one of the standard light blue robes walked in. He looked at the crowd gathered and said, “Auror Potter, is there something you needed?” 

“Oh, no, Jones...is it? Here on a personal account and to keep McLaggen company,” Harry replied. 

“You know the detainee?” Jones asked, looking at Scorpius. “He's not one of yours, is he?” 

“No, he's not,” Draco said, losing patience now that he heard the ridiculous reason Scorpius was here. “He's mine, and what I want to know is why is he here?” 

“Improper use of charms in a restricted Muggle area,” Jones replied automatically.

“I understand that,” Draco said through gritted teeth. He could feel his temper edging towards a more dangerous area. He couldn't understand why the potion wasn't stopping it. Why it was urging him, no, allowing him to lose it. Draco didn't have the energy to fight with what he should and shouldn't do, and so he let the urge to snap take over. “What I don't understand is why the MLE is wasting all of its resources on arresting a group of boys who were hardly doing anything.”

“Using magic in front of Muggles is a very serious crime,” Jones replied. 

“Magic.” Draco gave a derisive snort. “It was a Quaffle and some fireworks. A Muggle wouldn't recognize that as magic even if the Quaffle hit him square in the face. My son is the only person in here. A couple of inconvenient charms and you have the whole bloody department after him. Bravo, my taxed gold has gone to a very worthy endeavour.” 

“Your delinquent son is here because he will be giving us the names of his accomplices and then properly charged.” 

“Charged? Thank you, Officer Jones, for putting a stop to such a fantastic crime wave.” Draco could hear his own voice echoing off the walls of the empty cells; he didn't care. By reflex his hand was already gripped tight on his wand. 

“All right, Draco,” Harry said, jumping in between Jones and him. “Let’s go get a coffee, shall we?” 

“I don't want a coffee,” Draco spat. 

Harry grabbed him by the shoulders and began to pull him from the room. “You look like you need one. Did you eat breakfast? No, I thought not.” 

Draco allowed himself to be taken from the room, but only because it was Harry, and he felt the guidance of _Yes, go with Harry_. He yelled over his shoulder before the door closed. “McLaggen, don't let them talk to Scorpius without me, and, Scorpius, keep your mouth shut!” 

Draco's mind was still clouded with anger and confusion as he sat at a table waiting for Harry to come back from the coffee cart in the Atrium. How could Scorpius have done something countless times and today be the day he was arrested for it? This was supposed to be Draco's lucky day, and he was starting to think that this day was so bad that not even Felix Felicis could fix it. 

And he had yelled at the stupid MLE officer. Draco Malfoy didn't lose his head with people like that. What the hell was wrong with him? He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes and groaned in frustration. He pulled his hands away, looked up, and saw Harry walking towards him with two cups in his hands. 

That, right there, that's what was wrong with him. That bastard made him a complete nutter, and Draco wanted Harry so badly that he would do anything to have him. Blaming Potter had always been easy, but then Harry smiled when he noticed Draco's gaze was on him and Draco immediately felt like a shit. Having Harry on his side was so much more preferable to anything else. It was best to pick his chin up and face the day like the man Harry saw in Draco. Harry wouldn't waste his time with some silly boy who needed constant minding and reassurances. Harry deserved someone who was strong, like him. 

Draco took a steadying breath and returned Harry's look. 

“Loads of milk, your favourite,” Harry said, placing a cup in front of Draco. 

“Where's my biscotti?” Draco asked, looking hopefully at Harry. 

“I got you this. It was all they had left.” He placed a raisin roll in front of Draco. Draco hated raisins. “They were out of the cherry almond biscotti, sorry. It's popular, I suppose.” 

“Well now the whole fucking day is ruined,” Draco said shrilly, crossing his arms and slumping in his chair, prepared to spend the rest of the day doing nothing but pouting while he died of hunger.

_____ 

_”However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavours tend to succeed...”_

“The juice and half a rind of one Meyer lemon. Rosemary leaves, stripped from the branch but not broken. Simmer for twenty minutes. Stir five times anticlockwise for every three clockwise stirs. Fur of one rabbit's foot. White, it always has to be white. Other colours...”

Draco thudded his head against the stone wall behind him in frustration. How could it be possible he had misbrewed the potion? Draco was an expert potioneer. He had been dedicated in his study of the art. He had traveled the world learning all he could. Once, he had spent a year in a Chinese garden learning the use of every damn thing that grew in the place. He knew how to use a single blade of grass in twenty different potions and to the best effect. Beyond that he had his own business for years and never once had he brewed anything wrong – and he brewed it all. From simple sleeping draughts to the most complicated potions; Veritaserum and potions so pure and forceful they could pull a person back from the edge of death. 

He hadn't brewed many love potions or poisons of late. While brewing them was technically legal, using them was not. Draco was only the purveyor of the potions. Still it looked bad to have Harry Potter's boyfriend dabbling in such areas. For the most part, his business was completely clean. There was the occasion when enough gold could move Draco, but only for his most trusted clients. Just because he didn't brew such things often didn't mean he didn't know how to brew everything under the sun perfectly. And he certainly knew how to properly brew Felix Felicis. The stupid Felix Felicis was even reminding him that he'd brewed it correctly, that he was on the correct path. It was probably wrong.

The bamboo perhaps? He had shaved it properly, dried it, and ground it into a fine powder before adding the third phase. The clover had each been clipped, not pulled from the Earth. He had checked the stems...

Longbottom. 

Draco was going to kill that half-witted bastard. Longbottom had sold him something that wasn't grown or harvested properly. Draco clenched his fist, wondering how quickly he could go to Hogwarts, kill Longbottom, and get back. He really didn't want to leave Scorpius, even for the five minutes he was sure it would take. 

Draco checked his watch but then hesitated. Longbottom hadn't ever, not once, sold him a single ingredient that wasn't exactly as it should be. For years they had worked together. 'Worked together' was a delicate way of putting their understanding. Draco understood there was no one better in Britain and perhaps northern Europe with plants and herbs than Longbottom. Longbottom knew Draco would pay a fair or better price for fine ingredients. And they both understood that Longbottom was still a touch afraid of Draco. It was never spoken, but Draco could still see it in his eyes. Harry said it was the look of grudging patience, not fear. Harry was wrong; Draco knew what he saw. 

No, it couldn't have been Longbottom. There was no reason something on that end would be wrong. It couldn't have been that. 

There was always the fairy wings, or the yolk from the egg of one dragon. “Fucking Weasleys. I should know better,” Draco muttered as he stood from his seat, intent on finding parchment and a quill to send a letter to the Dragon Reserve in Romania. Once this mess was cleared up with Scorpius he would pay them a personal visit, and it would not be a welcome one. 

Draco looked over at his son, who was quietly eating – or rather not eating, but mostly pushing around with his fork – his lunch. Draco sat back down. Now was not the time to bother with the sodding potion.

They sat together in an interrogation room. At this point getting Scorpius out of a cell was the only thing that had gone right. Of course, it had been Harry who had managed it. 

After they returned from the Atrium with Draco having, against his better judgment, consented to eat one of the emergency protein bars kept in Harry's field kit, Harry had used his clout, and the witch at the front of the MLE was able to get Scorpius out of the accursed cell and into this private room. While they were locked in, and it was a pathetic cupboard of a room, it was much better than the cell. And the witch had brought Scorpius a hot lunch now that she knew Harry was apart of this. 

Harry had exactly the kind of leverage in this building that Draco knew would help him and Scorpius. The realization that he should have called on Harry directly as he'd first intended was the moment Draco started to suspect the potion had turned. 

He couldn't figure out what was wrong about it or why it had gone bad, but taking it once and selling it for over a decade gave him enough experience to know that what was happening wasn't right. The risk with Felix Felicis was that the side effects when improperly brewed were not well documented. Wizards were not likely to tell you they had brewed a bad batch of potion, let alone taken that potion. It was not uncommon for the orders for that potion to arrive anonymously via owl with a heavy purse of galleons. 

Draco had accepted that the potion was off and desperately wanted to go to his workshop and test the batch out, but wasn't going to leave his son, and damn, the potion was still in his body urging him not to leave. That of course made Draco wonder if maybe he should leave and it would get better. But potion's guidance or not there wasn't a thing, not even a herd of centaurs, that could drag Draco away from his son. 

“When did you stop liking salad?” Draco asked, looking up at Scorpius, who was still shifting his food around his plate instead of eating it. Draco was tempted to take the food himself. The protein bar had been like eating carpet. It was awful. 

“I like it fine,” Scorpius said, not looking up to meet Draco's eye. 

The pout of Scorpius lower lip and the sweep of his hopelessly long lashes painfully reminded Draco of when Scorpius had been little and still cried over the smallest personal slights. Scorpius had always been a sensitive boy, and it would break Draco's heart every time he saw his son like this. He wanted to lunge across the table, pull Scorpius to him, and run from the Ministry. Fuck them and fuck the MLE. 

“What's the matter?” Draco asked and, instead of grabbing his son and running, he settled for placing his hand on Scorpius's. 

“It's stupid.” Scorpius looked up; the glint in his eyes was fierce. He didn't look at all the sad little boy Draco was still thinking about. 

“Exactly what is stupid?” 

“This.” Scorpius dropped the fork with a clatter against the plate. “It was a bit of magic in a private garden. They didn't have to treat us like a bunch of criminals. Now I've been arrested, and that line between your eyebrows hasn't gone away since you got here, which means you're very worried, and with a record how am I going to ever be the Head of Magical Games and Sports? Goodbye to a lifetime of prime Quidditch tickets.” 

Draco felt his heart swell in his chest and bit his tongue to keep from laughing, while he self-consciously rubbed the skin between his brows, willing away any wrinkles. This was his son. Not some delinquent idiot, but a boy who at the age of ten had more ambition than Draco had ever had, and that was saying something. Head of Magical Games and Sports – it was all he had talked about since he learned that there was such a person. Draco had no doubt that even before Scorpius left school he would only be a step away from that job. 

“What if this does stay on your record? Let’s pretend it does, then what?” Draco asked. 

“Then I'll be lucky if I even get to clean floors in this place,” Scorpius replied. 

Draco shrugged and said, “I've a criminal record.” 

Scorpius gave him a withering look and said, “You own your own business. Who can stop you there?” 

“Harry's got a criminal record, too.” 

Scorpius scoffed but smiled at his dad. “That's Harry Potter though, isn't it? He could have a whole filing cabinet devoted to his infamous past, and he'd still be where he is.” 

Draco smiled. Yes, this was his son. He was no fool when it came to knowing how the world worked. “I promise you this entire thing is complete bollocks, and there is no way McLaggen or I will allow them to make a real record of this.” He knew, like he hadn't known before, that this all would pass. That Scorpius had no need to worry about his ambitions. With confidence that it wouldn't come to it and a with wry smile, he added, “If they do, I'll burn the place down for you.” 

“I don't need you in jail, Dad,” Scorpius said with a smile and playfully pushed at Draco. “When will Aunt Pansy get here?” 

“She'll be here soon, I promise. We've got McLaggen over in the head of the MLE's office pushing to get you seen. His aunt was married to him or their second cousins, maybe both, I don't know. Point is he knows him, and that'll help.” Draco could hear a voice echoing down the corridor and said, “There's McLaggen now.” 

The moment Draco had said that, though, he realized he was wrong. It was Harry's voice. Harry had gone back to his office once Scorpius was comfortably in this room. Draco wanted him to stay, but the potion had relieved his mind and urged him to let Harry go. Shouldn't have listened to the damn thing, but Harry was coming back now, so that was good. 

“I don't believe in accidents, Potter, and the law didn't either.” Draco had been right the first time as well. It was McLaggen coming back, too. 

“The law didn't have a choice. You twisted the truth and made a good man look like a monster.” 

Draco's eyes and Scorpius's eyes snapped to each other like magnets. Harry was upset about something. Scorpius raised a brow at Draco in question, but Draco gave a short shake of his head and put his finger to his lips. 

“Contusions and broken bones were true enough,” McLaggen said with a smarmy air. 

“Because he tripped down a flight of stairs,” Harry retorted.

“Tripped only because Auror, or should I say former Auror, Sheard, used a tripping jinx.” 

“Which missed and then he slipped on the runner and fell down the stairs.” 

The voices were right outside the door now. Scorpius and Draco turned and watched with eager anticipation, waiting for the door to swing open. 

“You make any excuse for your Aurors you can. It was brutality, plain and simple.” 

“And you will defend every bit of scum you can. You slither around this building on the lookout for any lowlife who is stupid enough to pay for your so-called expertise.” 

“Are the Malfoys the sort of stupid scum you're talking about?” The door suddenly swung open, revealing Harry and McLaggen only inches from each other. The look of anger on McLaggen's face had a tinge of smugness to it; the look of rage on Harry's face was made up of nothing but hate. 

“This is the kind of crap you do. You twist and spin words, trying to make me sound bad.” Harry gestured angrily towards Draco and Scorpius. 

“You don't need me for that,” McLaggen countered. 

Despite enjoying seeing Harry in a rage – his strong emotions always turned Draco on – he thought it was best not to let this go on any longer. He stood from the table and said, “Any news? When will we be able to leave?” 

“As soon as you find yourself a new lawyer,” Harry said. “Fire McLaggen. He's nothing but a piece of shit.” 

Out of the corner of his eye Draco saw Scorpius's mouth open slightly with shock as McLaggen reached for his wand. God, McLaggen was an idiot. Harry could likely kill McLaggen twenty different ways with his baby finger alone. Draco could only imagine what Harry could do if he drew his wand. 

“Harry,” Draco said as calmly as he could. “McLaggen is a fine— ” 

“He's a fine bastard is what he is. He trawls around St Mungo's looking for any potential injury that can be made into a lawsuit. Last year he had an eight-year-old girl suing her parents for neglect because she got into the potion's cabinet while her mum was in the loo.” 

“Stop it,” Draco said between clenched teeth. He did not need his advocate getting called into question in front of his son. If he was going to get out of this sodding place, he needed Harry to shut up and let McLaggen do his job. 

“Get a new lawyer, Draco. Get any lawyer but not him. I'll call Luna, she can be here in ten minutes.” 

“Lovegood? Have you gone mad? She specializes in creature law.” 

“Anything is better than this.” Harry flicked his hand at McLaggen as if he were a piece of rubbish. 

Draco was losing his cool again, damn it. Harry was making this much worse, not better. He felt the potion urge him to take Harry away, and though Draco was determined not to listen to it anymore, he couldn't help it. The potion was right. Harry needed to leave now. 

Draco grabbed Harry by the arm, just as Harry had done to him this morning, and dragged him down the corridor. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, trying to pull himself free. His muscles felt tense under Draco's hand. As if he needed more evidence that Harry was truly upset. 

Draco spoke to Harry through gritted teeth, “You need to calm down.”

“What I need is for you to let go of me so I can go beat McLaggen's face in.” 

Draco twisted and turned down corridors, and even though the only thing he knew about the Ministry was how to get to Harry's office, he felt like he knew where he was going. Where? He couldn't say, but he knew he would get there no problem. “From the sound of it, you doing that will prove his point exactly.” 

“I'll Obliviate him afterwards,” Harry said, and Draco bit his lip not to smile. He turned another corridor and found what he was looking for. He shoved Harry through the door and then quickly waved his wand to make sure they were alone. 

“You've got an answer for everything, Potter, don't you?” Draco said, and to his surprise Harry blinked and then smiled. 

“Potter? What's this I've done now?” 

“I know McLaggen isn't the best, but you can't insult him so thoroughly within earshot of Scorpius.” 

A look crossed Harry's face and his eyes went wide. “Oh shit.” He strode to the door, but Draco blocked his way. “We have to go back. We can't leave Scorpius alone with him.” 

Draco laughed. “McLaggen isn't going to do anything.” 

“You wait, Draco, you don't know him. He'll have this all pinned on you in minutes and Scorpius against you.” 

“If he does then I'll beat his face in. You can still Obliviate him though.” 

“I prefer to get my hands dirty. He's a bell-end. I'll sort him out.” 

There was a glint of humour in Harry's eyes, but Draco could still see how truly upset he still was. Draco knew Harry now, knew the tender, deeply loving man he was. But he also knew Harry's temper, and he saw the way his expression had been suffused with hatred towards McLaggen. Draco could make Harry angry, in fact he considered himself an expert at getting under Harry's skin. This was different. 

Draco felt unaccountably jealous. He wanted to be the only one who could move Harry to such a degree. Draco hated the thought, but he thought it anyway: once Harry had hated him like Harry now hated McLaggen. But no, Draco wouldn't be jealous of that tosser. Not only was McLaggen so clearly straight that he'd probably never even had a finger up his arse, but Harry was his. 

He looked at Harry's hands; there was a scrape across the knuckles. Draco brought the hand to his lips and kissed the wounds. “Hit someone today already?” Draco asked, looking at Harry from lowered lashes 

Harry grinned and said, “No, I didn't hit anyone, yet. McLaggen's still here.” 

“What did you do then?” Draco asked. 

Harry looked away and scratched the back of his head with his free hand. Draco laughed softly at the expression and gesture. Harry wasn't comfortable answering the question. Likely he did something Draco would consider stupid. “I did that Apparating back here. I started to run through the door before I had fully landed and scraped my hand.”

“Aren't you supposed to be a desk jockey? Pushing papers around all day?” Draco mocked and reached out to touch the front of Harry's grey-blue robes, acknowledging that they both knew Draco knew everything when it came to Harry's different work robes. 

“I'm the best there is. Can't always keep me tucked away.”

“God, you're smug,” Draco said and inched closer to Harry. 

“You like when I'm smug.”

“I do,” Draco said. “Why were you in such a hurry? Or are you too clumsy to Apparate properly?” 

“McLaggen isn't allowed in the building without me knowing about it. He cost a good man his job, and I don't want him nosing around unwatched.” Draco snaked one arm under Harry's robes, then behind his back pulling him closer. “What are you doing?” Harry asked with a stupid smirk. 

“Making sure you don't get too distracted by McLaggen,” Draco whispered into Harry's ear. 

Harry scoffed. “With you here that's far from likely. Can't even get my work done. I keep thinking of you.” 

“Good.” 

Draco could feel his heartbeat quicken, and he knew right now he had to kiss Harry. He didn't spend the mental energy trying to decide if it was Felix urging him on or if it was his normal self. Draco always wanted Harry desperately, potion or no potion. Draco brought their mouths together, Harry immediately opening his and pulling Draco's lower lip between his teeth. Draco opened his mouth wider to deepen the kiss. Harry flicked his tongue across the inside of Draco's lips then pushed forward more so that their faces pressed together. The rim of Harry's glasses was trapped firmly between their faces. Draco grabbed the back of Harry's head, pulling him closer, sure he could snap Harry's glasses in two if he kissed Harry as hard as he wanted to.

Harry's cheeks felt hot against Draco's, almost as if he were fevered. When Harry lost his temper, he literally felt like his blood ran hot. He looked it too. His skin would flush, his eyes would brighten, his normally pink lips became quite red. While Draco didn't exactly delight in pushing Harry that far, often, old school boy habits died hard. Draco hated that Harry wasted any emotion on McLaggen, but he would, absolutely, take advantage of it. 

Draco stepped, pushing one leg between Harry's; he wanted to be closer. Harry moaned and rolled his hips to Draco's thigh; he was already hard as a rock. Draco growled and nipped at Harry's lower lip. “Christ, Harry,” Draco murmured against Harry as he pressed his legs harder to Draco. 

“What?” Harry pulled back. “You dragged me into the loo, and that's what happens when you're bossy with me.” 

“Bossy is better than nagging or pestering.” Draco moved his lips down Harry's neck. He could taste dry sweat salty against the tip of his tongue and wondered again where Harry had been working. 

“You can be those as well.” Draco made a noise of contempt in the back of his throat, pushed Harry's collar aside, and scraped his teeth against the delicate skin in the hollow of Harry's throat. Harry hissed with pleasure and said, “I like it. Like when you're spun up. I want to bend you over and fuck you right then and there.” 

“What do you want now?” Draco pushed Harry's robes back and grasped his chest. His body was solid and hot on Draco's hands. Even with the shirt on Draco could feel how warm he was. 

Harry dropped one hand, reached and cupped Draco's cock. Draco couldn't help but rock into the touch. Merlin, that felt good. He imagined how Harry's hand felt on his naked cock. The soft pads of his fingers and the strong large palm holding him tight. “I want you in me,” Harry breathed and pressed his hand firmer. “Not my mouth, my arse.” 

“Jesus,” Draco said, hardly audible, and he felt his knees weaken with want and anticipation. He started to push Harry back towards the basin. They fumbled and kissed, trying to touch every inch of each other but still move. 

“Ouch,” Harry said as Draco slammed him into the sink, but pushed to kiss Draco more. 

“Turn around,” Draco said against his mouth, and Harry immediately complied. “Good,” Draco said, leaning forward and flicking his tongue across Harry's ear. The short hairs just above it tickled Draco's nose, and Draco could smell Harry's shampoo. No hair product. The stubborn git insisted nothing could be done for his hair, so never used the hair cream Draco had left in a prominent spot on his bathroom counter. 

Harry looked up, and their eyes met in the mirror; a smile flickered across Harry's face. Draco said, “You want to watch. I know you.” Draco began rubbing his cock against Harry's arse as he lowered a hand to Harry's belt and undid it.

“Oh God,” Harry said breathlessly as Draco opened the top button of his trousers and slid his hand down the front and into Harry's pants. Draco wrapped his hand around Harry's long, silky cock and started to stroke. 

“You want it like this?” Draco asked, straightening up and pulling Harry with him. The reflection in the mirror showed Harry leaning back against Draco, and Draco's head just over his shoulder. More importantly, it showed the outline of Draco's hand in Harry's trousers moving up and down. “Want to watch me fist your cock first?” 

“Fuck,” Harry said and rolled into Draco's hand. He arched his head back, ran his tongue across Draco's lips, and looked him in the eyes as he said, “All of it. Like this. Now.” He bent forward over the basin and reached out to grab the back edge. He pressed his arse hard to Draco. Draco's cock pulsed with pleasure at the pressure.

Draco could smell the dampness of the restroom and the cheap soap the Ministry used. Sometimes Harry came home with his hands smelling of it. 

Home. Yes, this was working. Harry wanted him bad; the potion wasn't faulty. It had led him here, and the day would work exactly as Draco had planned. Home would now be the place he and Harry shared together.

“God, I can't wait to fuck you,” Draco said, reaching with his other hand for his own belt. 

“Fuck me hard,” Harry said, pushing again. 

Draco pressed a kiss to the base of Harry's neck and was about to tell Harry he knew exactly how he liked it when the door to the restroom swung open. 

“I knew you two would be hiding in here,” Pansy said as she walked in like it was her own personal sitting room. “It's been how long? Twenty-five years and you two still can't keep your hands off each other?” 

Draco and Harry froze like a couple of deer in a spotlight. Draco pushed Harry's robes down to obscure the view as he pulled his hand from Harry's pants.

Harry straightened and turned from the mirror, keeping his back to Pansy. He quickly did up his flies as Draco smoothed his own shirt and put his belt back together. “It hasn't been that long,” Draco said, looking at Pansy's reflection in the mirror and giving her a cold look. “It's only been fifteen months.” 

Pansy waved a hand as if a swarm of gnats were in front of her. “Exact time doesn't matter. You know what I mean. You two have been dancing around it since we were eleven.” 

Harry now turned toward Pansy. His glasses were bent and smudged; there was nothing that could be done for his hair ever, but other than that he looked normal enough. “Took you long enough to get here. We've been waiting.” 

“We?” Pansy said, quirking a brow. Harry and Pansy were friendly enough, but Draco knew that was mostly for his sake. “You're happy to see me?” 

Draco looked out of the corner of his eye to see what Pansy's gaze had alighted on and saw the unmistakable bulge of Harry's erect cock pressing on his snug trousers. Draco wanted to moan thinking about how Harry's arse looked in those trousers. 

“Of course I am,” Harry said, putting his hands in his robe pockets and billowing them out in front of him to hide the evidence of his arousal. “Draco's been anxious, and now that you've finally arrived I can go kick that prick out of here.” He looked at Draco with a glee that was still tinged with lust, and before Draco could object to Harry going anywhere near McLaggen in any state of arousal, he was gone and out the door. 

Pansy smiled wickedly and looked at Draco. “You want to go after him? Looks like he still needs a hand.”

“Shut up,” Draco snapped and turned, looking away as he smoothed his hair. 

“You weren't exaggerating about Potter, were you? He's got quite the pants-full.” 

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, annoyed because he knew full well he had told Pansy exactly something along those lines awhile ago, when they were both drunk. But still, leave it to her to wait and use it at the right time against Draco. Of course, he would do the same thing to her. 

Pansy smirked and began to walk in a commanding way around the restroom as she spoke, “I was under the impression my godson has been arrested. I saw him with Cormac, didn't I?” 

“Why'd you send that idiot anyway? Harry hates him, which I'm sure you know, and he's here ruining everything. And why in the hell are you calling him Cormac?” Draco could hear his own voice in his head, and knew he was beginning to sound hysterical, but it was next to impossible to control his tone when his blood still rushed with desire, and Scorpius was in jail – of all places – and he wanted Harry so desperately all the time that he had taken that damned potion, and now he felt twisted around and turned upside down. 

Pansy stopped walking, stood solidly in front of Draco, and crossed her arms beneath her breasts pushing them up so they were more prominent. It was how she stood in court attempting to distract witnesses. “I didn't send Cormac. He got your owl. I may be your attorney, but the entire firm is under contract. We are a very good firm, as you well know, and it doesn't matter if the Chosen One hates him, Cormac won't lose his license anytime soon.” 

“He has a good reason,” Draco said, instantly coming to Harry's defence. 

“I know he's a gutter feeding—” 

“You slept with him though,” Draco said, feeling more in control now. He crossed his arms and raised a brow at Pansy. 

“Damn,” she replied, almost stamping her foot. “How'd you know? I called him Cormac, that's it. Ah, well. He may be shady, but needs must on occasion, and he knows where a clit is located.” 

Draco bit his cheek hard in an effort not to wince at the mention of girl parts. He didn't want to make Pansy feel uncomfortable for mentioning even for the briefest of moments that she had them. He was sure they would be back to talking about cocks soon enough. 

Pansy studied Draco closely, her close-set eyes narrowing to slits so that Draco could only see a bit of her gleaming brown irises. Draco kept his features firm and closed his mind. Pansy couldn't do Legilimancy, but best to always be safe. 

“What has happened, my dear?” Pansy asked, using the school-age term of endearment for when one of them was having a terrible day. This almost made Draco crack; it had been years since she had called him that. 

“Nothing,” Draco said, but he felt the sodding potion telling him to tell her. Urging him to speak to her. He wanted to run from the fucking loo, if only to prove he was in charge, not Felix. 

“Bollocks,” Pansy replied succinctly, she then stepped to Draco and, though she was much smaller than him, pulled him into her arms. Draco wrapped his arms around her and sank into the touch with relief. He noticed how thin she felt. She was working too hard. But he knew it wasn't easy trying to be the Magical World's most powerful lawyer and raising two very spirited children on your own. “Now,” Pansy said stepping away. “This is more than Scorpius. You know I'll have him out of here in five minutes.” 

She took out her wand and conjured a tufted chaise in a very comfortable looking brown-brushed velvet and said, “Sit.” 

“What are you now? A Mind Healer? Isn't this the sort of seat they would use?” Draco asked, mocking her. 

“It was the first thing that came to mind, and sit or I'll make you regret making fun of my magic.” She glared at him dangerously, and he remembered quite well what she had done to him when he had broken up with her in their sixth year. He quickly sat, perching on the edge, not wanting to recline back. Pansy sat next to him, pulled up her robes slightly, and crossed her legs. Despite her delicate, bird-like build she was long-limbed like Draco. Many purebloods were. 

She didn't say anything, but stared hard at Draco waiting for him to speak. He turned away from her minatory stare and rubbed the palms of his hands on the knees of his trousers. They felt clammy. He opened his mouth to tell her everything. How he was in love with Harry and that he was ready for them to live together, but he was scared of rejection. And how he had stupidly taken Felix Felicis, and since that moment, the day had turned completely to crap. Then, Draco felt the tug in his body not to tell her everything. Discretion, the potion urged, and he wanted to tell the potion to go fuck itself. This was his best friend. He hunched forward resting his forearms on his knees. 

It was harder to resist the potion than Draco thought; it kept holding him back not to tell. Thoughts of Harry filled his mind suddenly, and then he knew. Pansy was his best friend and knew him inside out, and in some ways better than Harry ever could understand, but Harry was his. What Draco wanted from Harry was special and theirs to share alone first. Harry, who could be quite private, wouldn't want anyone else to know first. 

“I really wanted to have a good day today. Especially with Harry. But it's all been complete shit,” said Draco. 

Pansy rubbed her hand across Draco's back consolingly and said, “Harry looked like he was having a fine time before I interrupted.” Draco scowled over his shoulder at her. She didn't smile at him, but her eyes glimmered with humour. “What were you doing in here having it off while Scorpius is locked away?” 

“I don't know,” Draco said. He rubbed his eyes. “I can't bloody think straight today.” 

“Let’s go get Scorpius out of this mess. It won't take but a few minutes for me to sort it out. We'll have you on your way and back in Harry's pants in no time.” She stood from the chaise and offered a hand to Draco. Draco took it and stood up, the chaise disappearing with a faint pop. 

“Thank you, my dear,” Draco said in all seriousness, looking Pansy in the eyes. 

“Not a problem. We'll see if we can get that stain out of your robes along the way as well. Good lord, Draco, these look terrible on you. They're baggy and weirdly shaped. Look at your wrist.” Pansy grabbed his arm where a few inches of his wrist were clearly visible. “Be more careful when you dress. Head Auror Potter may love you, but that doesn't give you license to leave the house looking like a slob.”

_____ 

_It could not have been clearer that Malfoy really wanted that lucky day_

“I know a handy little charm to make that wall transparent.”

“You know lots of a handy little charms,” Draco replied drily, but didn't turn around. “None of them are particularly useful to me at the moment.” 

“I'm feeling slightly put off that I didn't get to take care of McLaggen and show off in front of you.” Harry was so close behind Draco now he could feel his warm breath tickling the back of his neck. Draco closed his eyes and tried not to let the warmth intoxicate him too much. He was trying to control the substance in his body, and it would be much more difficult for him to ignore it if he was distracted by the proximity of Harry. 

“Why didn't you throw him out?” Draco asked. He and Pansy arrived back at the room Scorpius was in only to find McLaggen was still there. 

“I got pulled in to handle a situation. It's too bad. I was looking forward to throwing him out on his arse.” 

“You missed Pansy sending him on his way. Treated him like a dog who had vomited on the carpet. Sent him scurrying with his tail between his legs.” Draco opened his eyes and continued to stare hard at the wall that separated him from Scorpius as if he could will it away, and then he would know what was going on, on the other side. “I think it's a sex game they play.” Draco turned now, but only because he really wanted to see what was sure to be a spectacular wince on Harry's face. He was not disappointed.

“What did you tell me that for?” Harry said, covering his ears as if could make the said unsaid. “Not him. I like Pansy. Why would she do that?” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I don't think she did it as a personal slight to you. Needs-must situation.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and said, “I expect more from you Slytherins.” 

Draco chuckled and said, “Can't be cold blooded all the time. Passion will get us from time to time.” 

They looked at each other with the perfect understanding that exemplified exactly the sort of feelings for each other that got them together. Draco's thought likely wasn't the pleasant one Harry was enjoying. Draco wasn't feeling all that charitable about passion at the moment. Passion was exactly what had made him have quite possibly the worst day he'd had in some years. Draco had now convinced himself that had he not taken the accursed potion, the day would have gone much better. Scorpius would have still been arrested, of course, but he would have felt more in control of his thoughts and emotions. Not misguided, like a hinkypunk was in his mind and kept leading him into bogs. The worst part was that he had invited it into his body and allowed it to fool him. He should've trusted himself, Harry, and their relationship the whole time. 

Knowing that, Draco was still convinced the potion had to be bad. How else could everything be the wrong path? What he wouldn't give for a bezoar at this moment to stop the effects. 

“Why are you out here looking like you want to kill the wall with your mind anyway?” Harry asked and nodded over at a bench just down the corridor for them to go sit on. 

Draco sighed. “Pansy needed Scorpius to tell her exactly what happened this morning. Made me leave the room. Said I make Scorpius nervous, and he might omit something to keep from upsetting me. I listened—” Draco scowled, thinking about how he complied only because the damn potion had agreed. “—but my own son. I can't make him nervous.” 

They sat on the bench and Harry looked over at him and smiled warmly. The soft, easy movement of his mouth, the way his cheeks plumped, making his eyes elongate and crinkle at the corners, already had the effect of making Draco feel better. “You underestimate how strong your personality is,” Harry said. 

“No, I don't. But Scorpius has known me his whole life.”

“You intimidate everyone. He doesn't want to disappoint you is all. You know he loves you with all of his heart. You trust Pansy, so there isn't any reason to be upset, see?” 

“Do I intimidate you, Harry?” Draco slid closer to Harry on the bench so that their legs touched, and he looked into Harry's eyes, silently daring him to look away first. He noticed Harry's glasses were no longer bent and smudged as they had been earlier. It left Draco feeling slightly bereft, as if earlier in the loo hadn't happened.

“Pffft. Me? No.” Harry had the audacity to laugh and say, “I'm the one person impervious to you.” 

“Are you?” Draco put his hand on Harry's thigh. He felt suddenly daring. His blood pumping, his mind quietly urging him to go this way. His perfect day was getting closer, Draco could tell. All of the crap would be erased if he had this one thing. 

Harry looked at Draco's hand, which was now inching dangerously up his thigh, and looked back at Draco. He raised both his brows at Draco in an attempt to mock how Draco could raise just the one at him. Draco raised a single brow to prove he could, and they both started snickering. 

Draco felt the potion urging him to kiss Harry. He could feel the tug to lean in and press his mouth to Harry's. It wasn't quite like fighting the Imperius Curse, but it was damn near close enough. Draco strongly told himself, _No_. He could not listen to the potion anymore. Today was an unwarranted disaster, and he wasn't going to let Felix ruin it anymore. 

Draco straightened up, still stubbornly ignoring every impulse, said, “Not now,” and started to pull his hand away.

Harry put his hand over Draco's and said, “Afraid to finish what you've started?” Harry cocked his head to the side and blinked innocently at Draco. 

“We're in the corridor waiting for Pansy and Scorpius. I hardly think this is the place,” Draco said and pulled his hand away. 

Harry's face fell, and his body stiffened. Draco wanted to grab him and kiss him while he buried his fingers in his dark, thick, stupid hair. But he couldn't tell what were his own feelings and what was due to the potion. He couldn't risk it, so he sat cold as stone, looking past Harry. “I wasn't trying to start anything that couldn't be finished. Don't need to be interrupted again.” Harry's eyes flicked to the door of the room where Pansy and Scorpius were and then looked back at Draco. There was a smile hiding in the corner of Harry's mouth. Draco could tell that Harry knew he was having a shit day and was doing his best to make him feel better. Draco didn't want Harry here making him feel better. Well, he did, he wanted just that, but then it would assuredly blow up in his face if he allowed himself to be comforted by Harry. 

Draco stood quickly from the bench, and as he straightened his hideous robes, he said, “I appreciate your support, but it's really not needed now. Pansy's here, she'll sort this all out. There is somewhere else you can be right now, surely.” 

Harry stood up and stepped right in Draco's line of sight, so he couldn't see anything else but him. “There are hundreds of other places I could be right now, but here is where I want to be. I need to fill out an arrest report, but I came back for you.” 

Draco wanted to scream at Harry to go away, to leave, to come back tomorrow or later after he'd taken a bezoar or brewed an antidote, but he wasn't going to get into the complicated story of why he needed an antidote, so instead he said, “Came back for me, did you? You came back so you could prove your balls are bigger than McLaggen's. You didn't even know I was here. It was about him.” 

“I got the message because he was here, but I stayed because you're here.” 

Goddamned, fucking stubborn-arsed Potter. Draco wanted to kick him and run away with him all at the same time. Would he not just leave and listen for once in his life? Draco crossed his arms and looked coldly at Harry. He felt the pull to make peace with Harry, to stay quiet and not push it, but he ploughed on. “If you are here for me than what have you done? You haven't got my son out of jail. You haven't gone and used your considerable weight to make this better. You got us a sodding room and that was it. What's the use of taking it up the arse from the Head Auror if this is the best he can do for you?” 

Harry, bugger him, had the audacity to scoff at Draco. “You're telling me we've been together if only for the day my job would benefit you? That's all you've wanted this whole time?” Draco wanted to say “No, of course not, I'm being a prick-hole on purpose,” but he clenched his teeth and said nothing, not trusting himself to actually succeed in pushing Harry away. “Other than Scorpius I can't reckon what in the hell is wrong—” 

“Everything is wrong today,” Draco said and turned his head to the side and raised his chin, so he no longer had to look at Harry. It was fraying his nerves trying to do so. 

The door to the room Scorpius and Pansy were in opened; they both turned their heads sharply to look at it. 

“All done here,” Pansy said, brightly enough that Draco knew she had detected something was going on in the corridor.

Harry looked back at Draco, and the expression on his face was one Draco knew well. Harry was about to go do exactly what he had set his mind to and damn to anyone or anything that got in his way. He'd take the stars out of the sky if bloody well decided to. Draco didn't want him charging in and doing anything stupid, but Draco knew it was pointless to try and stop him. 

“Excuse me,” Harry said and turned away from Draco and started down the corridor. 

“Where is he going?” Pansy asked, and Draco only shrugged, relieved Harry had finally listened. “Where are you going?” Pansy called down the corridor to Harry. 

“I've got something to finish,” Harry said before he turned a corner and disappeared. 

Pansy turned back to Draco and hissed, “What did you do?” 

“He's probably going back to work,” Draco said and resisted the urge to sprint after him to make sure Harry wouldn't go do something rash and get himself killed. 

“What if he's going to the MLE Head? We can't have that. I better go after him. We don't need Scorpius ending up in Azkaban.”

Scorpius frowned at Pansy's retreating back, then looked at Draco and asked, “Don't you think you should go with them?” 

“No, better I stay here. Or do you have a bezoar on you?” 

“Did you poison yourself?” Scorpius asked, sounding confused. “It's not so bad as all that.” 

“No, I don't wish I was dead, yet,” Draco murmured to himself, walked past Scorpius, and took a seat in the room they were obviously supposed to wait in. 

“You all right, Dad?” Scorpius said, edging back into the room and taking another seat. 

Scorpius stood, moved his chair over by Draco, sat, and then slung his long skinny arm across Draco's shoulder. “It's not so bad. Aunt Pansy will take care of it all.” 

“Yes, she will. And she'll charge me a fortune for the favour.” 

“You can take it out of my pocket money,” Scorpius suggested lightly, and Draco laughed. 

“You'll be lucky if you ever get pocket money again.” 

Scorpius sighed dramatically. “I shall endure my punishment like a man. No pocket money it is. Though you'll have to tell Grandmother because any time you take that away she always sends me some.” 

Draco looked down at his son and narrowed his eyes. “You're terribly spoilt.” 

“Wait till you see all of the stuff Mum bought me.” Scorpius grinned. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose; he felt a headache coming on. He caught the scent of something different in the air. It was a sharp smell. He leaned closer to Scorpius and sniffed, then to Scorpius's head and sniffed again. Draco scowled, his son's wonderful blond hair smelled like chlorine. 

Draco put his head down on the table and wondered which he would have first when he left; an antidote or a drink. Perhaps both together?

Before he had made up his mind which imbibement was more important, Draco could hear Pansy's shoes clicking down the corridor. 

“You're free to go,” she announced, coming through the door. 

Both Draco and Scorpius jumped out of their seats and turned to her. “Really?” Scorpius asked. 

“Yes, darling, really. No record. All wiped away. Don't go scampering through Muggle gardens anymore, and everything will be fine.” Scorpius, in an act of exuberance very unbecoming of a Malfoy, flung his arms around Pansy and hugged her. 

Scorpius, having realized what he had done, stepped away from Pansy and said in a very dignified manner, “Thank you.” 

“You're welcome. As much as I am the best, it wasn't me who did it. Hardly said two words. Potter was already there when I ran in. Gave Gudgeon, MLE head, a massive bollocking. Not him personally but mostly about the department and wasting resources. It was bloody fantastic to watch.” Pansy's eyes flashed at Draco. 

“Harry, really?” Draco said, unwilling to get distracted by Pansy's admiration of Harry full of righteous indignation. 

“Of course. You would expect less of him?” Pansy asked with an all too innocent tone. 

At this point the day had been too long and hard for Draco to try and reconcile exactly what this all meant. All he knew was he wanted out of this damn building and fast. “Scorpius, get your things,” he began to say. 

“Are you taking me back to Mum? Are you going to tell her?” Scorpius interrupted.

“No, you're coming home. With me.” 

“Draco, I don't want to upset you, but your divorce agreement,” Pansy said delicately. 

“What about it?” Draco snapped. 

“You have to take Scorpius back to Astoria.” 

“He was arrested on her watch,” Draco hissed. 

“Technically, he wasn't. No record.” 

Draco glared at Pansy and said, “I am not paying you for this.”

_____ 

_”Then, slowly but surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through him.”_

It was faulty. There was no other explanation for it. Draco knew his potions and knew when one was short of the high quality perfection he dealt in. Draco looked at the Felix Felicis he'd picked up on his way home bubbling away happily over a flame on his kitchen counter. Yes, it looked all well and good, but after the day Draco had, it most certainly couldn't be all well and good.

Draco looked to the vial of antidote lying right next to the cauldron. No bezoar needed, a simple neutralizing solution would do. A bezoar was an act of desperation, he had remembered, but only after he spent twenty minutes tearing apart his supply cupboard looking for one. He had felt the urge not to go looking but had ignored it. He was usually quite organized and could find his way through his potion's cupboard, not only blindfolded but drunk and Confunded as well. He was sure the faulty Felix Felicis had addled his emotions and wits enough that it proved impossible to find what he needed. He wanted to laugh triumphantly, now looking at the antidote. He would win the day not the potion. 

The only problem was he couldn't make himself take the antidote, not yet. Next to the antidote sat four of the best lemon soufflés Draco had ever seen in his life. A monument to soufflés should be built in honour to them. The top puffed a good inch above rim of the dish looking like a luscious sugary pillow. Never in his life had Draco made anything like it.

Harry could cook, Draco could order take-away. Toast and eggs were all he had ever really managed. He could read a recipe book, but his patience and acuity was used for his job. He didn't need it at home.

Once Draco arrived home with his cauldron and vial he wanted to be sure. Inspiration hit him over the head like a bludger, and he knew he should make a soufflé. He had turned on the wireless for a bit of mood music and grabbed a recipe book. The spine cracked as he opened the book for the first time and it opened exactly to the page he needed. _Soufflé au Citron_ it said across the top. While Draco could speak French quite well, it had been some time since he had read it, and he'd certainly never read a recipe in the language. That wouldn't matter, the potion reminded him. Today he could do it. 

Not only did he do it, but he did it with ease. He had separated the eggs with magic not having to touch the cold, viscous slime of the whites. He had whisked the whites to stiff white peaks as he charmed the lemon to zest and juice itself. He had folded all his ingredients together with the required delicate touch and produced an impeccable dessert. 

It was nearly impossible to fathom how he could produce such a soufflé but have such a crap day otherwise. Draco glared at the lemon perfection as if it held the answer for him. The music he was listening to faded away and the music for the introduction for the News Hour started. Draco moved to turn it off. He could never take the news seriously when Lee Jordan and his terrible accent delivered it. He missed the old days as a child when newsreaders all had accents like cut glass and none of these local affectations. 

Before he could flip the switch he heard the first headline: 

“In a startling turn of events today, the Aurors have captured Casino 'Double Down' Sayer, best known for allegedly fixing the World Cup three years ago. According to reports, Double Down had been hiding in a small Welsh town and had gone outside to take his Kneazle for a walk. He took a wrong turning down an alley and ran into a group of Aurors who were in the area. Head Auror Harry Potter was visiting the team and pursued and caught Double Down as he attempted to escape on foot. Not too clever our Double Down. 

No member of the Auror Department could be reached for comment, but in a press release they said, ‘We aren't telling you a thing.’ True or not, it looks like again Harry Potter has made himself invaluable to the wizarding world.” Draco wanted to roll his eyes at the obvious arse licking, but was trying to figure the timing of when this arrest happened. This morning or this afternoon? 

“In further news today,” Jordan continued, his tone far too chirpy, “B.B's Biscuits, the maker of the ever popular cherry almond biscotti, has issued a recall. A curse by a rival company has been put on their bakery. St Mungo's was full to bursting this morning as several witches and wizards flocked there complaining of vomiting and well...a problem similar to vomiting but...While neither of these are a side effect of this particular curse, the outbreak has been wide spread. Beware, throw out any biscotti purchased within the last month. 

In less disgusting news—”

The biscotti. That was Draco's biscotti, and he hadn't eaten it today. They had been out. The only time Draco could remember not being able to get it. 

His perfect day. It was real. It was happening. Scorpius's arrest had been a minor cock-up. Or not, he had spent the day with Harry. And, fuck, he had been an arse to him. But Draco knew it now. He saw it now. The Felix Felicis was as good as ever. Now, without all of his worry, anger and concern he could let it guide him still. 

Draco's first instinct was to run, go and Apparate over to Harry's, but he felt the urge to stay. He must wait here. Draco wanted to stamp his foot and pound his fist on the counter. He hated waiting. Now he knew, though. He needed to listen. He took a deep steadying inhale and hadn't even exhaled all the way when there was a knock at the front door. 

It was Harry. Draco knew it had to be him. Draco sprinted out of the kitchen, down the corridor, slid across the floor of the entrance hall, and came to a graceful stop with his hand on the knob. He threw open the door and before Harry could say a word Draco said, “Were you in Wales this morning or this evening?” 

“This morning,” Harry said, sounding and looking confused. 

“Get in here,” Draco said and grabbed Harry by the front of his coat and pulled him inside. He deposited Harry just to the side of the door – Christ, the bugger was heavy – and slammed the door shut. “What are you doing here?” Draco asked, beaming at Harry. 

“Have you been forgetting to open the window when you brew certain potions?” 

“I haven't brewed today at all. Been at the Ministry all day, as you well know. Why are you being so thick?”

“Why are you being so...weird?” 

Draco knew he was being quite unlike himself, but now that he knew, it was difficult not to be so excited. He tried to tell himself to calm down, to let the potion lead him, and not let the giddiness overwhelm him. “I'm happy to see you is all. I apologize for earlier.” 

If Harry was surprised at Draco's easy and willing apology, he had the good grace not to say so, but he didn't have the good grace to not let the shock of it be clear all over his face. “How'd you know I was in Wales this morning?” 

“The news,” Draco said simply. 

“I was damn lucky this time. I was supposed to be there for the next four sodding days. All happened last minute. Double Down, rather his Kneazle, had the decency to show up right as the team was getting started. I was already dragging his arse back to the Ministry when the message about McLaggen came through. If I hadn't arrested him, there was no way I could've got back to the Ministry at all today. The case I was there for is in the weeds.”

“Lucky, yeah,” Draco said, wanting to laugh at Harry's use of the word.

Harry looked Draco up and down in a way that made Draco's breath stop in his chest. Harry rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, and Draco got the distinct impression Harry was going to grab him and kiss him, but he stopped. He looked around as if hearing the buzzing of a fly and trying to find it and asked, “What's that smell? Did your cleaning service get new floor polish? It smells like lemons.” 

“No, I—” but before Draco could admit he had baked, Harry was walking past him, headed for the kitchen, following the scent of lemons like some sort of bloodhound. Draco remembered the potion sitting on the counter, the evidence of his desperation, but felt assured he didn't need to run and vanish it quickly. Let Harry find it and think what he would. 

“Did you order these?” Harry called from the kitchen. As Draco stepped into the room he saw Harry opening a drawer and pulling out a spoon, like he would at home. “You saving these for anything?” 

“No. Have one,” Draco said, unable to hide his smile at Harry's ease and delight. 

“Where'd you get them? They look brilliant.” Harry picked one up and poised his spoon to take a bite. 

“I made them myself,” Draco said, somewhat pompously. 

Harry hesitated, looking at the soufflé sceptically. “You did? You?” 

“Take a bite, it's not poisoned,” Draco snapped. Harry chuckled and took a bite. His eyes widened, and he smiled in surprise. He straightened his glasses then took another bite. “Don't look so shocked, Harry, I can follow a recipe.” 

“I reckoned you could, but this isn't like you.” 

“I was feeling inspired.”

“What'd you do? Brew some of this and then see if you could do something you normally couldn't?” Harry asked with a nod towards the cauldron of Felix Felicis. 

Draco was ready to tell Harry every sordid and terrible detail of his day, starting with taking the potion, but he stopped himself. He knew not to tell Harry, not yet. “It takes two cycles of the moon to brew that. I couldn't come home and pull it out my arse in fifteen minutes.” 

“But this you could?” Harry said, clinking the side of the ramekin with his spoon. 

“Yes. Now my arse taste like sugar and lemons,” Draco said without thinking. 

Harry put the half finished confection and spoon down with a clatter. “Does it? Let me see.” He moved towards Draco. Draco stood firmly, letting Harry come to him. 

“You're going to lick my arse? Here? In the kitchen?” Draco asked, putting his hands on his hips. He wasn't about to let Harry fuck him on the kitchen floor again. It could be terribly uncomfortable. 

Harry stopped inches from Draco and said, “Yes. Unless you've got a better idea.” Harry's gaze burned through Draco in such a way that Draco completely forgot his mental protest at fornicating on the floor. 

“I...ah, can't say that I do.” Draco looked down and saw that Harry was already quite hard. His cock was clearly straining against his jeans. “Soufflé does it for you, Potter?” 

Harry slid one hand around Draco's waist and said, “Not really.” He brushed a kiss to Draco's neck. “Almost getting off in the loo does though.” 

Draco put his hand to Harry's chest to stop him from unbuckling his trousers. “Come again?” Draco asked. 

“Not finishing what we started. I was at least half-hard the rest of the day.” Harry ground his hips to Draco, and they both groaned. Draco couldn't ever remember making Harry stop, or wait or vice versa. Even if it wasn't always convenient timing, they always went for it. They wanted each other, plain and simple. This was new for them. The level of his passion seemed to be cranked up another notch. Draco considered putting him off to see if waiting just that bit longer would make it better. But the intensity in Harry's eyes, the way his hands still moved on Draco's body; Draco could sense that Harry was vibrating with desperation and need. And Merlin, Draco wanted Harry to touch him more, feel his skin, lick his arse. 

“Exactly where are we doing this?” Draco asked, tracing his fingers down Harry's neck to the top button of the jacket he still had on and looking from the table to the counter.

“I don't care. Anywhere.” Harry kissed Draco hard on the mouth and grabbed his arse. “Let me fuck you,” Harry said and rolled his hips to Draco's. 

A vision of his bed popped into Draco's mind, and he remembered this morning how desperately he wanted Harry in it. Now it didn't seem to matter so much where they were. Draco stopped thinking about his bed and the idyllic set up and gave himself over to being with Harry. 

Draco held Harry's face between his hands, feeling the grit of his stubble against his palms, and pulled him in for another kiss. It was hard, and Harry's teeth scraped Draco's lower lip, but Draco pushed harder against him wanting more. Draco brushed his tongue to Harry's, moving it into his mouth. Harry tasted tart and sweet at the same time. Draco hadn't even bothered to taste what he had made, but tasting it on Harry was surely better than it would have tasted on its own. 

Their kiss broke, and Draco anxiously pulled at the large buttons of Harry's coat. He wanted the coat off, he wanted all of Harry's clothes off. He wanted to feel Harry's skin against his. From the press of thigh and cock, to belly, to chest. 

Draco threw Harry's jacket aside, and he caught Harry's glasses as he ripped Harry's t-shirt over his head. He threw the shirt, and the glasses went skittering across the floor. Harry paused in his efforts to undress Draco and blinked in an unfocused way. He lifted his wand as if he were going to Summon them, but Draco grabbed Harry's wrist. “No,” Draco said and rubbed a thumb against Harry's left nipple. “Touch me. It's all you need.” Draco brought Harry's hand to his cock and thrust against it.

They kissed again, but it was broken up as they scrambled out of their jeans, trousers and pants. Draco's trousers were still pooled around his ankles when Harry brought their cocks together and stroked them in his hand. He put the other to Draco's chest and guided him backwards. Draco stepped out of his clothing and let Harry lead him. 

They made it to the table, and Harry reached around Draco and pulled out a chair. “Sit,” Harry said. Draco looked over his shoulder and saw it was the same chair he had sat in this morning. The cold tea and toast still sat on the table, a reminder of that morning's panic, which now felt a millions miles away. Harry pushed Draco down into the chair as he knelt before him. 

He put his hands on Draco's waist and pulled him forward on the chair till he was teetering on the edge. Harry brought one hand up and pushed against Draco so that he leaned back, his head resting on the curved back of the chair. Harry spread Draco's thighs apart and lowered himself so he almost sat on his heels. 

“It doesn't taste like lemons,” Draco blurted out in sudden rush of anticipation. 

Harry's gaze flicked up at him and he said with a half-smile, “We both know I've done this before.”

Harry licked one finger and ran it down the crevice of Draco's arse. Draco gripped the edge of the chair and rolled his hips forward as far as he could, wanting Harry to touch him more. Harry lowered his head again and kissed the space behind Draco's balls, and then lower, spreading his arse open. He brushed his lips to Draco's entrance. Draco moaned and pushed up on the tips of his toes, wanting Harry deeper. 

Harry held one of Draco's thighs with one hand and pressed the other to the inside of Draco's arse. He took a long slow pass with his tongue and Draco felt his body tense with the thrill of the sensation. Harry did it again and again and again until Draco began to relax and gave into being taken like this.

He cupped the back of Harry's head and urged him forward. Harry made a noise in the back of his throat and pulled Draco closer, licked more firmly. One of the rails from the back of the chair dug into Draco's shoulder blade, but it was nothing to what Harry was doing. The feel of his hot tongue licking and swirling around his hole, slowly teasing it open, was all Draco could care about. 

Harry breached Draco with the tip of his tongue, and Draco bucked against his face and cried out. He wanted that again. Harry pushed two fingers into Draco, and he practically fell out of the chair as he pressed into them. 

Harry sat back but kept his fingers inside Draco, slowly fucking him with them and spreading him open. There was a sheen of moisture on and around Harry's mouth. It was obscene and illustrated perfectly how much enthusiasm Harry had licked Draco with. The sight made Draco's cock throb even more. 

Harry stroked his own cock and moaned before he said, “I need to fuck you.” 

Draco reached and pulled Harry's fingers from him before he scrambled out of the chair and turned, putting his hands flat against the top of the table. Draco looked over his shoulder at Harry, who was rising from his knees. 

“You've always had a thing for being fucked against the table since that time,” Harry said, tracing a finger up the back of Draco's left thigh.

Draco's shivered. “No,” Draco said, because he loved disagreeing with Harry. And then, because it was the truth, he added, “I've a thing for you fucking me.” 

“I know,” Harry breathed almost inaudibly in Draco's ear. His chest pressing to Draco's back made Draco's knees feel week. Harry stepped back; Draco made a growl in the back of his throat, and Harry placed a kiss on the centre of Draco's back to make up for the loss of the touch before touching him again. He put his hand close to Draco's entrance, leaving Draco feeling slick and more open. 

Harry held tightly to one of Draco's hips as he guided his cock in with his other hand. Draco was worried Harry would go slowly, take his time about it. He didn't want that. He thrust his body back at the same moment Harry's pushed forward. Their bodies slammed together. Draco dropped to his elbows to steady himself, and Harry wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him. 

“Shhh,” Harry said, rolling his hips. He pressed his chest to Draco's back. “I know what you want. Let me give it to you.” 

Harry straightened and pulled Draco up from his elbows. He thrust hard into Draco and Draco cried out. This only encouraged Harry because he slammed his hips to Draco again and again. Draco spread his legs as wide as he could. He wanted Harry in him as far as he could go. 

The sounds of their flesh coming together seemed to echo around them. He could hear himself panting, and he felt Harry's fingers digging into his hips as his balls pushed against Draco's arse. Draco tried to reach for his own cock, so he could make himself come. His cock moved with the thrusts bobbing against his stomach. Draco could feel the tip of it was wet already. His balls ached as if they would burst on their own if he didn’t come soon. He couldn't move his hands though. Harry was fucking him so hard that he would fall on his face if he moved even one of them. 

“Fuck. God, fuck,” Harry started to say, his hips moving sharper and more erratically. He thrust short and quick and cried out. Draco felt Harry fill him, and he moaned and rode out Harry's orgasm. He almost came at the feel of Harry pulsing in him. 

Draco, now safe from falling face first into the table, reached for his cock, but Harry, who was still in him, reached around and took Draco's cock firmly in hand and began to stroke. “Fuck yourself on me,” Harry whispered in Draco's ear, his tongue flicking against the shell of it. “Fuck your arse on me while I make you come.” 

Harry wrapped his other arm around Draco, pressing them together from balls to shoulders. Draco's fingers were white from digging into the table, using them for leverage to push back onto Harry for all he was worth over and over. Draco's palms were sweaty. and the strength of each of Harry's thrusts was so much that Draco wouldn't be surprised if he found fingernail gouges in the table when they were done. 

Harry whispered filthy encouragements in Draco's ear. “Yes, like that. I'm still hard for you. Can you feel how slick it is with my come in you? Feel it running down your thighs?” Draco did feel all of those things, and he moaned pushing into Harry's fist and back on his cock. “Fuck yourself harder. Make yourself come.” Harry stroked Draco harder and faster. “Come on my hand. Come on me, then you can lick it off. Harder, God, harder...”

Draco could still felt the fullness and rub of Harry's cock. Draco felt his legs shake and his head swim. He was sure Harry was the only thing keeping him upright and still he moved as hard and fast as he could. Harry thrust one time, and that was it. Draco felt the dam break, and he was crying out as he came hard and fast. On his belly, on Harry's hand, down his balls and thighs, across the table. Harry held him and stroked him until Draco stopped shaking and could stand on his own. 

Harry placed a kiss on his shoulder and moved Draco as he slowly pulled out of him. 

“It's cold in here,” Draco said with a half-hearted whine, wanting Harry to wrap his arms around him again. 

“I would've taken you to the bedroom.” Harry leaned across the table and pulled the robes Draco had thrown over the back of a chair when he got home. “Here,” Harry said, covering Draco with them. 

“Not those again” Draco mumbled. 

“What's wrong with them?” Harry said, looking Draco up and down.

“They've got a stain on them. You were the only one that didn't notice,” Draco said, pointing to smear on the chest.

“I know they've got a stain. They're mine. I left them here a while ago. Forgot about them till I saw you in them. I thought it was nice I could leave my things here, and you're comfortable with that. I came over to get them, actually. They need to be cleaned.” Harry smiled sheepishly. His smile looked different without his glasses. Like it was more private, meant for Draco alone. 

“I,” Draco cleared his throat and looked away from Harry. “I've been thinking that maybe you should leave more things here. All of your things.” As Draco spoke he knew he should say something more and truly felt this was where his luck had led him finally. “Or we could find some other place big enough for all of us, and we can both leave all of our things together.” Harry blinked at Draco, and Draco didn't know if it was because he couldn't see him or he hadn't expected this. “Say something,” Draco said, feeling uncomfortable. Felix Felicis was luck for him, but it still left Harry a choice. 

Harry pulled Draco to him and held him tight. Words had apparently failed Harry, and he just kept holding Draco. Draco started to babble into Harry's shoulder because he couldn't take the silence. “All I want is for your sorry arse to live with me, and I was so desperate I took bloody Felix Felicis and the whole day didn't go how I wanted. But now you're supposed to say 'yes' because I've finally got to the point of asking you.” Harry laughed and held Draco tighter. Draco pushed away from him and said, “Well?” 

“Well what?” Harry smirked at him. 

“An answer would be nice.” 

“Something you need to take Felix Felicis for can't get an answer like that.” Harry snapped his fingers. “Why'd you take the potion if it was so easy?” 

Draco stepped back and glared at Harry. Draco had been wrong the whole day; he should have given Harry a potion, not himself. Harry would find out once Draco stopped giving it to him. But he'd forgive Draco, eventually. “This has been far from easy,” Draco said, crossing his arms and attempting to look dignified while covered in come and wearing nothing but dirty robes in his kitchen.

Harry reached for Draco, but Draco took a step back. “Come on now. Don't be that way; I'm only winding you up.”

“Glad one of us finds this entertaining.” Perhaps it wasn't too late to dose Harry. If he could get to his wand and Stupefy him, then go to his workshop...

Harry scrubbed his hand across his face and began to squint and look around the floor. He was quite adorable when he was helpless. Harry was always so confident, Draco liked seeing he was indeed human and not just the Saviour of the wizarding world or a god of sex, lust and love sent for Draco to worship. “They're right here,” Draco said, bending over and picking up Harry's glasses. 

“Thanks,” Harry said, taking them and putting them on. He walked over to Draco's counter, and Draco tried not to watch his arse as he moved, but that was impossible, especially when he walked. Harry had a great arse. He stopped in front of the cauldron and leaned over it, which only increased Draco's ardour for his arse. Draco tilted his head to the side to appreciate it that much more. 

Harry studied the surface of the potion and even leaned down and smelled it. He put his palms flat to the counter and turned his head to Draco. “You sure this is Felix Felicis? That you've brewed it correctly? When this happens there will be times when it is seven of us under one roof.” 

“I can count,” Draco said in a huff. “Wait. Did you just say when?” 

Harry turned away from the potion and leaned his back against the counter and shrugged. “I want to be sure you mean this. That this hasn't poisoned you. Imagine if this had. That would be very bad for business.” 

“You said when. That means yes,” Draco said, stepping towards Harry. 

“There could be some unsuspecting person out there who ordered the potion by owl and they may be waiting for the right time to take it and it could all go horribly wrong. You better double check it.” Harry's eyes shone with amusement, and sometimes, like now, when it was difficult to keep his face straight, Draco could see the corner of his mouth twitch. Draco wanted to kiss Harry, right there on that spot.

“There is nothing wrong with anything I brew,” Draco said instead of kissing Harry. 

“I would hate to go to St Mungo's because I bought a bad potion.” 

Draco was close to Harry now and looked him up and down. “You haven't ordered anything from me.” Harry shrugged casually and looked far too innocent. “What did you order? Why didn't you tell me?” 

“Maybe I was hoping for a bit of my own luck,” Harry said, glancing at the potion over his shoulder. 

Draco stepped so close to Harry that their bodies brushed together and he asked, “Did you order Felix Felicis from me and take it? When did you take it? Was it today?” Harry smirked and only shrugged again. Draco wanted to shake Harry to make him say. “Did you already take it? Is today your perfect day?” Draco demanded. 

Harry lifted his chin and looked Draco in the eyes. “No, I didn't take it already.” He wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and said. “Don't think I'll be needing to. Everything is already perfect.”

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Endnote: The summary quote is by Emily Dickinson from her poem _Luck is not chance (1350)_. All other quotes are from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_
> 
>  
> 
> You can leave a comment here or [on Livejournal](http://hd-erised.livejournal.com/6294.html).


End file.
